


Scattered to the Wind

by skatergirl83



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, I'm a librarian so sue me, Post-Endgame, Prompt Fic, Yes it's a fic about a library, sorry there's no smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatergirl83/pseuds/skatergirl83
Summary: Post Endgame, Janeway runs a bittersweet errand. Chakotay lends a hand.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 29
Kudos: 65





	Scattered to the Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariella884](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariella884/gifts), [Minako Tenjou](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Minako+Tenjou).



> For Minako Tenjou and Ariella884, who dared me to write a fic about J/C meeting in a library. Bonus points to anyone who guesses the library before it's called out.
> 
> Thanks to both for their thoughtful and quick beta reads.

No pomp. No circumstance. After six months back on Earth, it was high time she got to do something official _unofficially_ , without any fanfare.

Kathryn Janeway thought her Starfleet uniform seemed modern and out of place against the ornate marble walls of the historic building. But it was easy to blend in with the tourists, staring at advertisements for various exhibits and daily programs as she was. She’d been waiting 20 minutes and no one had begged for a holoimage; not a single person had asked to shake her hand.

It was bliss.

She glanced at her chronometer. Her companion was late.

Impatience, though she preferred to think of it as excitement or perhaps intention, drove her to head up the marble stairs and down a corridor labeled “gallery.” If her partner-in-crime was going to make her wait then at least she could sit somewhere with a good view. She rounded a corner buttressed by a dramatic marble pillar and what she’d gone searching for came into view.

Tall windows looked down, so far down, on a circular hall where people appeared as humanoids in miniature. They worked diligently at small desks arranged in around a larger one. In hushed voices their projects took shape as soft sunlight streamed in from the edge of the domed ceiling, illuminating the room and the recreations of ancient paintings that surrounded it. The mundane scene never failed to take her breath away.

Janeway’s hand hesitated over her combadge. Perhaps she should call the man she waited for and tell him that she was the one who was going to be late. Surely it wouldn’t take long to go downstairs and get a pass to the collection. How long would it take to bring up an original copy of _Macbeth_? _Wuthering Heights_? 

_Dante’s Inferno_?

Her heart twisted in her chest. No, perhaps not that one.

She wanted to find something for him, not her. Maybe there was time to bring up a book of Native American legends. Janeway imagined the smell of the old book, could feel the weight of the tome in her hands. She knew the smile it would bring to his face.

Her hand went to tap her combadge, but someone else spoke first.

“Should I be jealous of the books?”

Janeway swung around to the sound of a man’s voice that was sweeter than any fruit and more familiar than family. Dark eyes, strong cheekbones and a broad and mischievous smile winked back at her.

With a grin she answered, “Never.”

He lifted the small grey box he held in his hands as if to show it off. “Sorry for the delay. Harry wanted to make sure the data was completely clean. He stayed up half the night working on it.”

A laugh escaped her lips. “Why am I not surprised?”

Another smile. “He learned from the best.” Would this man ever stop complimenting her?

No. The answer was no. And she had no problem with that. Janeway swept out her hand and they made their way down the back to the lobby.

“Did you know,” she began, “that they had to move the entire collection when the Third World War broke out? Millions of books, photographs, letters. They hid it all in an old mine. They got everything out only days before the original building was destroyed by the first wave of bombings, then rebuilt it so we could continue to share the knowledge of humanity.”

Their uniforms' overcoats trailed on the elegant stairs as the pair descended. They stopped in the lobby next to a large, ornate central desk. Chakotay turned to her and lifted up the box as if to indicate its invisible contents. “And now we get to add another piece. Ready to share the knowledge of the Delta Quadrant?”

All she could do was smirk. “Why else did we spend seven years getting lost?”

His Cheshire Cat grin made another appearance. Janeway turned to the young man at the desk.

“Excuse me,” she began. “We have an appointment with the Librarian.”

The man—young adult—child—when had she gotten so old?—looked at her with sudden confusion. “Which one?”

 _“The_ Librarian,” Janeway emphasized.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there are over 500 librarians at the Library of Congress.”

Janeway resisted the urge to drum her fingers on the desk in frustration. The Borg Queen had been more obliging than this teenager. "We made an appointment with the head--

“You mean me,” interrupted a feminine voice from behind them. A tall Andorian woman with pale, pearlescent skin like snow and clear blue eyes that didn’t so much look at people as see through them floated down the stairs. She extended her hand to Janeway.

“Admiral. Captain. Pleasure to meet you.” Hands were shaken and pleasantries exchanged, and her eyes fell on the object in Chakotay’s hands. “Is this it?”

Chakotay held up the item for her to see. “Voyager’s data core. Seven years of our official logs, ship’s records, star charts, sensor records and research data. All thoroughly prepared for your collection by our highly skilled and attentive ops officer, Lieutenant Kim.” Except he wasn’t theirs anymore, Janeway knew. The thought stung.

The Librarian looked at the plain grey box with something akin to childish glee before her expression gracefully changed to one of sympathy. “And you’re absolutely sure you don’t want this to go to Starfleet’s archives?”

Janeway held her hands in front of her, as if they needed comfort that Chakotay’s couldn’t provide in that instant. “Oh, they’ve already got a copy. I was authorized to give the original to you.” Her gaze searched the corridor before meeting the Andorian woman’s eyes again. “This…this place has survived so much. Same as our crew. It seems fitting that the original makes its home here.”

The woman considered them for a moment, then nodded slowly and accepted the core from Chakotay’s outstretched hands. “Admiral, Captain—it’s an honor. We’ll give this piece of your ship a good and safe home.”

With a nod the woman turned and walked away, the click of her heels echoing through the hallowed hall.

Janeway sighed with sad satisfaction. Chakotay reached out and touched her lightly on the arm.

“What?” he asked.

For an instant she tasted the bittersweet moment in silence. She shoved her hands in her coat pockets. “We’ve all been scattered to the wind since we made it home,” she explained softly, her eyes following the pale woman who had departed with what felt like a piece of Janeway’s own heart. “Now, Voyager too. One part goes to the Presidio museum, one part to Starfleet’s archives, another to the Library of Congress--”

He pulled her hand gently from its hiding place and rested it over his heart, wrapping his strong fingers around her delicate ones. “And yet every piece of it stays right here.”

Even through the uniform she could feel his heart beating. The soft light glinted off matching gold bands that were too new to have lost any shine.

He was right, as usual. Chakotay dropped her hand to their sides but kept his fingers wrapped around hers. “How about we go look at those books now?”

She smiled. “Thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Thank you for reading! In the mood for more bittersweet J/C? Check out one of my other fics, [The Ruby Ring](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20130904).


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